


Liar, Liar

by tamyaka



Category: DC - Fandom, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Drugs, High Roy, Its more of a somber fic than a soft one, Party, drunk Jade, slight nsfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamyaka/pseuds/tamyaka
Summary: Summary: Jade and Roy get pulled over and arrested for drunk driving after leaving a party. Jade comments on being able to pass any lie detector test.
Relationships: CheshRoy - Relationship, Jade Nguyen and Roy Harper, Jade and Roy, redcat - Relationship





	Liar, Liar

**Author's Note:**

> Since I usually don’t finish fics all in one go, this will be part/chapter one!! Also, if your read this I love you haha and I’m glad that you love Jade and Roy as much as I do. More (cuter) stories will be coming soon :3

It was meant to be fun. The party, that is.

You add a cap full of vodka into your lemonade. Next up it’s half vodka, half lemonade. Finally you’re pouring yourself a full cup of that cheap, smelly, alcohol and drink up. It slides down your throat, burning every inch, warming your stomach.

You pass around the sticky bottle. You fiddle with your fingers or dress. You French kiss the guy next to you. You take a walk, throw up, go back inside dazed, only to find the room spinning. You run to the bathroom or an abandoned closet. Repeat.

The heavy hair is intoxicating, it suffocates you. Cigarette smoke searing your eyes and chocking your throat.

.

Roy’s hair was about as cherry red as my lipstick, and his eyes as bloodshot too. Our clashing glances meet from across the room for the first time since we got here. Three? Four hours ago?

Sour tasting lips when I kiss them, filthy sweat dripping down his skin when I brush against it. What’s up with you Roy? Getting wasted like some high school punk?

Raids of people all around me. All hot, dancing, alive bodies. Not my forte.

The flickering lights raise nausea I didn’t know my stomach was capable of feeling.

I set my vodka lemonade — minus the lemonade — down on the flattened carpet.

To the bathroom. Although it’s freezing, and there’s pee on the floor, and couples vacate all the stalls. Most puking, others losing v-cards.

.

Now all I smell is the heavy perfume on my neck and the liquor on peoples breath. Rainbow rays of light illuminate from the disco ball while the heartbeat in my chest music drums along to thundering pop music.

I take another swig from my red plastic cup. How much more cliché could this party really get?

My eyes swivel and head pounds. I get a chance to sit and chew on the tobacco someone gave me. Swish around the melting ice cubes in that cliché, red plastic cup.

Someone plants a gentle tap on my shoulder.

I tenderly peel the wad of nicotine out of my mouth and hand it to the next random teenager.

Human beings. I’m aware of most of them and what they’re doing surrounding me. Most of them young, too young. What happened to kids being kids? Apparently popping pills dissolved in booze is more appealing.

.

I’m aware of the looks the older men give me. Tracing those dirty hands down my aching torso, spreading my thighs open with greedy smiles. I let them indulge in their fantasies.

They tug at my hair on this multicolored dance floor as if the gesture alone shows they have power over me. I pity them, I really do.

Roy and me intersect at a snack table. Two drunk blonde chics swooned around his waist, he tips his glass off with tequila. I go for a rum and Coke.

He looks like he’s had more than alcohol tonight, but I don’t ask. With my hands I flash him the sign we agreed on as he hobbles away. The, ‘meet me outside by our car in fifteen minutes, ok?’ sign. Funny enough, that symbol is a heart.

Roy just smirks and sloppily blows me a slobbery kiss. Darn drunks.

It’s not as though the rum isn’t getting to me though. I feel it sitting in my stomach all runny and hot.

I try to ignore it. That addictive feeling. The feeling that your safe and comfortable, until of course you wake up choking in your own nasty vomit.

.

Oh goodie, another man. He leads me back to a restroom and fiddles with my drink. I pour what’s left of it down his back, all over his white tank top, spreading thick and brown like syrup.

Then again the guy’s so drunk all he can do is hiccup, blush, smile real big, and unzip his jeans a tiny tad more.

I sigh. So uneventful. I look at the glass pitcher of hard liquor beside me. Would things be more interesting if I were drunk?

I take a long, nice chug of rum. After, I’m smiling sweet and licking the bitter high off my teeth.

A mini spark from my brain shocks me, not out of it, but farther in. I chug the bottle, spilling drips here and there on the semi naked — now stripping — boy in front of me.

He’s most likely around nineteen. What a shame, so young. His tongue tastes like drugs. Sweeter then alcohol, unsavory aftertaste.

He’s not as attractive as Roy though— wait, Roy? Oh yeah, I had meant to meet him in the parking lot five minutes ago.

I stare at the cracked glass mirror two feet ahead of me, graceful hands busy occupying the boy.

He’s panting. His gray eyes are soft but his touches certainly aren’t gentle. Sandy locks of hair swing back and forth as he ravages my clothes.

Back and forth.

Here goes nothing. I haven’t had any drunk sex in awhile. Well, Roy being the exception.

Back and forth. He enters slow, earning my soft moans as encouragement.

It’s all very raw, not that I’ll care tomorrow. I won’t end up caring in an hour. Forty five minutes. Twenty. Ten?

In fact, the only thing that matters now are the hot tears trickling from my eyelashes down my flushed cheeks.

I’m crying? Why?

Man, I wish Roy would just come and save me. My beautiful knight in shining armor. Perhaps I should get myself out of this hole. This rabbit hole. Perhaps it’s the White Rabbit’s hole.

The laugh I let escape in my head is laced with evil desires. I could shoot this guy dead right here and now. He doesn’t know who I actually am (the killer), what I’m capable of (the killing).

Long black fingernails draw blood in my own palms. This boy‘s really got my going. Gosh, who knows, most likely the rum talking.

It doesn’t matter now. Roy doesn’t matter. Time to give this man a show until I sober up.

.

Clara. That’s his lovers name.

He moaned it while I sucked him into ecstasy. That sicko. But I don’t give a crap, not like I ever told him my name anyways.

The alcohol coursing though me diminishes as I gulp ounce after ounce of tap water. Straight from the sink so it isn’t drugged. Just salty.

My whole body reeks of sweat and sickness. I’m about to burst in a puddle of my own filth. I wipe my damp, tingling forehead on a nearby towel.

My brain says keep moving, press forward. At the same time my eyes recite the indistinguishable, vivid, back and forth motions.

I clench my teeth so hard my jaw pops.

.

How delighted I was when red crossed my vision in the freshly mowed courtyard.

Red. Red equals Roy.

The air no longer stinks like alcohol, but of lemon lime. Mud coats my shoes. Footsteps on gravel rattle my previous headache.

Red.

Yep, there he was laying stiff on the front of his beat up truck, clutching his stomach and a water bottle.

.

Scratch that. The water bottle was just filled with more vodka. I could taste it in his mouth and smell it in the cup holder.

.

I probably shouldn’t have let him drive, but he insisted he was sober enough.

Liar.

Note to self, Roy Harper is a liar.

I surely wasn’t that better off. I didn’t want to drive, and heck, who was I to judge how Roy Harper could handle his liquor. So that was that.

Instead I sit drooling on the cars window sill. Deep dark eyes blank and resting on every passing streetlight.

It’s all a sweet haze now. A familiar feeling. Déjà vu, maybe.

The mess I am really shines through tonight, taking form in my stained dress and smudged makeup.

Roy doesn’t seem to care, I don’t think he’ll be caring for a while though.

Speak of the devil, he slows the car and rolls down the driver’s window. In the cross section of a street he rolls down the window, then vomits his guts out. It faintly smells like rotten food and expired vodka.

I take a black hair band and tie my greasy hair into a low ponytail. I decide I’m done impressing society for the night. Embarrassing or not, both Cheshire and Jade are off duty right now.

.

The red and blue flashes were too sudden for an intoxicated Roy to notice. I couldn’t warn him in time either.

Roy inevitably sees the flashes in the side view mirror, and his ears pick up the blaring sirens. His sapphire eyes squint and he swears.

“We’re so screwed.” Roy slurs.

I smile behind my fist.


End file.
